


where enough is not the same it was before

by voxofthevoid



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Plug, Daddy Kink, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Face Slapping, Fluff and Smut, Heavy D/s, M/M, Masochism, Natasha Romanov Lives, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sadism, Verbal Humiliation, Window Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24024517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: Bucky stumbles forward, all his controlled grace vanishing in the blink of an eye. Steve catches him by the arm once he’s within reach and tugs him closer, helping him climb on Steve’s lap. He tries to do a half-assed job at first, perching sideways on Steve’s thighs like some blushing virgin. Steve swats his ass and manhandles Bucky into straddling him. He stilllookslike a blushing virgin, but Steve knows the little pervert soul that lurks underneath that sweet face.He thumbs Bucky’s lips, digging his nail into the plush pink of it. Bucky squirms a little without actually trying to get away. Steve holds him tighter anyway, because he knows what Bucky wants, what he needs.“Sit still, baby.”“Someone might see,” Bucky hisses, twisting to shoot another wary glance over his shoulder.Steve grabs his chin and makes him look at Steve. Bucky glares but allows the motion, and the glare withers when Steve digs his fingers in and gives Bucky a little shake.“So what if they do?” he asks, arching his brow. “Who cares?”“Daddy!”-Steve has always wanted to defile his office.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 99
Kudos: 832
Collections: Sweet and Gentle Steve/Bucky





	where enough is not the same it was before

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s start the month by ignoring EG canon and getting Bucky railed against a window. 
> 
> I’ve got a tumblr here.

Someone knocks and Steve calls out a curt welcome, expecting either another newbie finding wafer-thin excuses to talk to him or more paperwork. It says something about the sheer mind-numbing dullness of the latter than Steve’s half-hoping for five minutes some poor kid’s starry-eyed stuttering.

You’d think being _ex_ -Captain America and current desk jockey extraordinaire will dull some of the hero worship. No such luck. Then again, he doesn’t really blame them. Steve and Nat are the only original Avengers left in this new S.H.I.E.L.D, and even if she weren’t the Director and automatically unavailable to all but the highest-ranking agents, no one would dare approach Nat. Steve, Commander of the STRIKE squads, is a little more accessible and a little less terrifying.

But when the door opens, a very familiar face smiles at him, and Steve’s own face splits into a happy, helpless grin.

“Buck!” Steve grins, distantly aware that he sounds every bit like the besotted husband he is. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

Bucky steps inside and closes the door softly behind him. He holds up a paper bag, one eyebrow arched sharply.

“You saying you ain’t happy to see me, Rogers? I’ll leave and take your dinner with me.”

“I’m always happy to see you, baby,” Steve says with the kind of unabashed sincerity that still stops Bucky short, even though he should be used by now to how enamored Steve is of him. “C’mere, and I’ll show you how happy.”

Bucky jerks with a short bark of laughter. The rough sound does nothing to hide the pink crawling up his neck. Steve stares at it, almost unconsciously tapping his desk and quietly shutting down all the displays and holos. Bucky’s too pretty to not be looked at without distractions. Steve leans back in his chair for a better view. Bucky’s dressed casually, in jeans and a soft, oversized t-shirt that vanished from Steve’s side of the closet a few weeks ago.

Retirement has been kind to him. His hair’s down to his shoulders again, and he’s always so careful with it, brushing it into soft, lustrous waves that make Steve’s fingers itch to bury themselves in them. The rest of him invites touch with the same magnetism. Steve’s not even subtle as he eyes Bucky’s thick thighs and soft chest, his clothes doing nothing to hide his build.

“Steve,” Bucky calls out, tone a blend of amusement and admonishment. “Stop ogling me.”

Steve drags his eyes back to Bucky’s face. His cheeks are red now. Bucky always gets so sweet and _shy_ when Steve stares like that, though god knows Steve does it every fucking day. If he had it his way, the two of them would never leave their bedroom. They barely did, for that honeymoon slash soul-seeking vacation that lasted an entire year.

“I can ogle my husband if I want to,” Steve says, grinning when Bucky scowls at him. “Come over, give me a better view.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but sets the food down on Steve’s desk and comes around to stand a little closer, just out of Steve’s reach. It’s a deliberate choice; Bucky’s smirking despite his bright flush, a challenge and a tease.

Steve rises to the bait because he’s easy that way.

He spreads his legs, gratified when Bucky tracks the movement with interest. Steve pats his lap, and Bucky meets his eyes with a judgmental frown.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Come here.”

“You’re working,” Bucky points out, all rational about it. “I would hate to distract you, Commander.”

That’s a low blow. Steve’s blood burns hotter even as Bucky takes a step back, expression now blank in that way it gets when he’s biting back a grin. He can’t quite hide the smug gleam in his eyes though.

But two can play that game.

“I can always make time for my boy,” Steve says, voice lowered, eyes unwavering on Bucky’s. “Come on, sweetheart. Sit on daddy’s lap.”

Bucky chokes on air.

He casts a wild glance at the door, and Steve can’t really call it paranoia because with their luck, someone would step in right in time to hear that and it would be Nat, who’d then never let them live it down, but when Bucky makes sure that they’re alone in the room and still doesn’t move to obey, Steve sits up straighter and schools his face into a stern frown.

“Bucky. I won’t ask again.”

Bucky stumbles forward, all his controlled grace vanishing in the blink of an eye. Steve catches him by the arm once he’s within reach and tugs him closer, helping him climb on Steve’s lap. He tries to do a half-assed job at first, perching sideways on Steve’s thighs like some blushing virgin. Steve swats his ass and manhandles Bucky into straddling him. He still _looks_ like a blushing virgin, but Steve knows the little pervert soul that lurks underneath that sweet face.

He thumbs Bucky’s lips, digging his nail into the plush pink of it. Bucky squirms a little without actually trying to get away. Steve holds him tighter anyway, because he knows what Bucky wants, what he needs.

“Sit still, baby.”

“Someone might see,” Bucky hisses, twisting to shoot another wary glance over his shoulder.

Steve grabs his chin and makes him look at Steve. Bucky glares but allows the motion, and the glare withers when Steve digs his fingers in and gives Bucky a little shake.

“So what if they do?” he asks, arching his brow. “Who cares?”

“Daddy!”

Bucky slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, and Steve can tell he’s aching to turn and look at the door again, stopped only by Steve’s hand on his jaw. Steve smirks at him, and Bucky’s scowl returns with a vengeance.

He still lets Steve reel him in until their lips are a breath away.

“Let them see, baby,” Steve whispers, nudging Bucky’s nose with his. “What, you shy?”

“Fuck you,” Bucky retorts. His eyes widen the next instant. “Sor—”

Steve smacks him. It’s gentle as far as these things go, but Bucky still subsides with a whimper, big, wet eyes blinking down at Steve. It’s adorable, how quickly he goes from defiant to pitiful. Steve rubs the spot he hit, thumb stroking along the faint mark blooming there.

“Behave, Buck,” he says, the words half a sigh.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Ssh, it’s alright, honey. I know you want to be good.” Steve replaces his thumb with his mouth, lips parting to taste the warm flesh. “Don’t you?”

It takes a few seconds and a couple of ragged breaths before Bucky answers.

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my boy.”

Bucky melts. He’s so easy. Steve shifts to better allow Bucky to curl into him, somehow making himself half his size. He nuzzles into Bucky’s temple, kissing his hair and ear, holding him possessively close. Bucky’s a big guy, but he squirms into Steve’s arms like he can turn into a bite-sized ball of Bucky that Steve can just gulp down. He’s always been like that, even when Steve was just five-foot nothing of spite and stubbornness, but it’s only in this century that Bucky’s burrowing has gained a desperate edge. It’s better now than it used to be, but Steve still strokes his hand up and down Bucky’s spine, idly massaging the tense muscles on either side, all the while he holds Bucky tightly to himself.

After a while, Bucky settles and sighs happily into the side of Steve’s neck.

“Hey.”

Bucky hums a quiet acknowledgment.

“You got me something, baby?”

Bucky nods, still attached to Steve’s neck.

“Wanna show me?”

That gets him a verbal response.

“It’s too far.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart? I’ve got it right here.”

He gives Bucky’s ass a good squeeze, his other hand tugging at his hair. Bucky lets himself be pried off Steve’s neck. Half-lidded eyes stare at him from above blushing cheeks.

“Daddy,” Bucky says in a tone of immense disappointment. “I brought you dinner.”

“Mm, yes, you’re the best husband. But I’ve got something else to unwrap first, don’t I?”

It’s obvious from the way Bucky’s pressing his lips together that he’s trying not to laugh. His expression is as fond as it’s exasperated; the Bucky Barnes original that Steve likes to call the ‘you-dumbass-why-do-I-love-you’ expression.

It wavers when Steve slides his right hand down so both his palms are cupping Bucky’s denim-clad ass. He gives both cheeks a nice squeeze, pleased to watch Bucky bite his lips and hear his breathing turn shallow. He’s easy, but then, so’s Steve.

“You have work, daddy,” Bucky says again, but it’s so much weaker this time, nothing but a token protest. “And someone might come.”

“Work can wait. And if someone comes, well, they’ll know to fuck off. Or watch. I don’t mind. I’ll show you off, Buck. How about that?”

There it is again, that shyness. It’s in the downward sweep of his obscenely long lashes and the sweet curl of his mouth. Steve kisses the corners of his lips and both his eyes, trailing his lips to one cheek and farther down, peppering pretty little kisses along the curve of Bucky’s jaw. It’s all nice and cute, and he knows Bucky likes it, knows just as well that it’s not enough.

“Well?” Steve asks, mouth at Bucky’s ear. “How about it?”

Bucky makes a sound like he’s dying.

“Anything,” he gasps. “Anything you want.”

Steve bites down hard on his lobe. Bucky, sweet Bucky, doesn’t even cry out. He whines, high and helpless, shuddering violently on Steve’s arms. His breath breaks on a gasp when Steve sucks on the spot he bit, soothing the sting with his tongue.

He leans back then, settling back against his chair. It’s a big, sturdy thing, able to take both his and Bucky’s weight, and it’s comfortable too. Steve didn’t have ungentlemanly intentions when he picked out the thing, but he sure can’t say he’s never thought about it on the days he spent in it with nothing to do but hour after hour of paperwork that’s not even on paper anymore. It’s just so easy to look at white letters running down holographic green and think of Bucky’s pretty eyes and plush mouth instead.

And now he gets to do it.

“I’ve always wanted to defile my office with you,” Steve tells Bucky happily. “No time like the present.”

Bucky grins. If he blushes any harder, his skin will get stuck that way. Steve won’t be complaining though. Bucky likes to make fun of Steve’s Irish complexion, but Bucky’s just as bad once you start sweettalking him.

“You got a one-track mind,” Bucky says.

“You like it.”

Bucky wisely keeps quiet.

Steve cups his face and pulls him into a kiss. Bucky makes a happy humming noise and parts his lips for Steve to lick inside. He tastes a little sweet.

“Grab a bite on the way?”

“Mm, drink.”

Steve sucks on his tongue until Bucky only tastes like himself. He bites gently on the tip, and Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. Steve bites harder on his lips, tongue flicking over the broken skin. He likes making Bucky hurt, but he likes kissing it better even more.

When they break the kiss, Bucky’s pretty blue eyes look almost black, and Steve bets his are no different. The boredom and tension of the last several hours are gone as if they never existed, replaced by a slow, simmering fire.

Steve slowly trails his hands down Bucky’s throat. He presses a thumb to his pounding pulse and drags it further down, cupping both palms over Bucky’s pecs. He squeezes gently.

“I swear they get bigger every day.”

Bucky lets out a strangled noise.

“ _Daddy_.”

“It’s true!”

“You miss breasts that much?” Bucky asks with an adorable frown.

“Nah. Why would I? Got these pretty tits, don’t I?” Bucky makes that noise again, whole face red, and Steve bites one, apple-like cheek, relishing Bucky’s startled cry. “No, baby. I have everything I need right here.”

Bucky’s both pleased and embarrassed when Steve pulls back, lips turning up into a grin he tries and fails to control.

“Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,” Steve tells him honestly.

Bucky ducks his head, throat clicking when he swallows. Steve pokes at the cute cleft on his chin, laughing when Bucky snaps his teeth at him.

“Be nice now. What do we say when we get a compliment, baby?”

Bucky shivers lightly. He’s hesitant to drag his eyes up at Steve, but he does it. He doesn’t speak though, batting those long lashes at Steve like that will get him to forget what he was saying, and it’s not at all a bad strategy, but Steve’s very good at multitasking these days.

“What do we say?” he prompts, tapping Bucky’s chin.

Bucky mumbles something. It’s incoherent even with Steve’s enhanced hearing.

“Louder, Buck.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. He speaks through gritted teeth.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Hmm, gotta work on your delivery, but good enough.”

Bucky’s eyes flash open, and Steve can see the bratty retort on the tip of his tongue, can also see him bite it back with visible effort. He grins, and Bucky scowls. He’s good at putting up a front. His dick’s more honest, tenting the front of his jeans. Steve gives it a good look, lingering long enough that Bucky notices he’s noticed and starts squirming, but he doesn’t reach for it, not yet.

He grabs the hem of Bucky’s shirt instead and rucks it up. Bucky raises his arms immediately, concerns about someone walking in vanishing into the ether.

“No,” Steve says, smiling. “Lower ‘em.”

Bucky does, his puzzled expression unbearably adorable. Steve rolls the fabric and tucks it under Bucky’s arms. It leaves his stomach and chest exposed, and Bucky flares red when he understands what Steve’s doing, and by then, Steve’s already got his face buried between Bucky’s pecs.

He's softer these days, tightly packed muscle covered in a soft layer of fat. It drives Steve absolutely crazy, same as it did when he first saw it in Bucharest. Peace suits Bucky. He was built for gentleness, and it’s unfair that the world tore at him and gave him sharp, jagged edges, but they’re fixing it now. Chasing Alpine around their apartment for her baths is Bucky’s sole risky endeavor these days. Her claws aren’t to be underestimated, but Bucky’s good at using his left arm to deflect the worst of it.

Steve sinks his fingers to the flesh at Bucky’s sides and rubs his face into his tits. Bucky’s chest heaves with deep, shaky breaths. When Steve takes a hard nipple into his mouth, he’s rewarded with a moan that trembles at the edges. He digs his teeth into a little bud and grins when Bucky cries out, loud and unfettered.

He's not just soft. He’s sensitive too, emerging touch-starved on the other side of decades of torture. It’s just as well that Steve can’t keep his hands off him.

He takes his time tormenting Bucky’s nipples. Every hot flick of his tongue and every sharp bite earns him soft, desperate noises Bucky just can’t seem to hold back. His hands twist into Steve’s hair and flutter over his shoulders and back, clinging and tugging in turns. Steve’s unmoved, attached to Bucky’s chest like a very loving barnacle. He doesn’t let up until Bucky’s nipples are swollen, a little bruised, and the skin surrounding it is pink and red from his tongue and teeth. He sucks one last mark, groaning at Bucky’s full-bodied shudder, and draws back to survey his handiwork.

Bucky always looks good with love bites on him, and it’s no different now. It’s fucking obscene, really, how good he looks with his tits all bruised up.

Steve says as much, and the only reaction Bucky seems capable of is a whine that’s barely human.

“Poor baby,” Steve murmurs absently, fingers trailing over the blood-hot marks he has made. “It hurt?”

Bucky just breathes raggedly. He’s clutching Steve’s shoulders and trembling. The bulge at his groin is bigger, and it must hurt to have his cock trapped in unforgiving denim. Steve loosely cups Bucky’s crotch, smiling when Bucky whines through clenched teeth.

He squeezes. He’s even gentle about it, but Bucky cries out like Steve shoved a fist into him.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve croons, free hand wiping the tear tracks on Bucky’s cheeks. “What do you want, honey?”

Bucky meets his eyes. They’re wide and wild with need, barely seeing Steve while looking right at him. Steve has to kiss him, can’t resist the siren call of Bucky’s red, trembling lips. Bucky makes a noise that’s half a sob and kisses back, sloppy and desperate, just the way Steve likes him.

Steve leans back and wraps a hand around Bucky’s throat to halt him when he tries to follow.

“Tell me what you need, Buck.”

Bucky only has to try twice before he gets the words out.

“ _Fuck_ me.”

Steve tightens his grip. Bucky whimpers, throat shuddering under Steve’s palm.

“That’s not very polite, Buck.”

“ _Please_ fuck me.”

Steve hums and presses a little harder, still not enough to cut off air. Bucky’s voice is strained when he speaks.

“Daddy, fuck me, please.”

“There we go.”

Steve lets go with one last, fond squeeze. Bucky’s eyelids flutter.

“Strip.”

Bucky’s slow to get to his feet. Steve doesn’t rush him, idly running his hands up Bucky’s chest and playing with his hair, pinching a bruise or two just to have Bucky whine and swat at his hand like that bit of protest will hide how he pushes his chest into the sting. But Bucky does stumble off Steve’s lap eventually, already tugging his t-shirt over his arms. Steve eyes the bared skin hungrily, gut clenching tight when Bucky manages to undo his fly with shaky fingers and push his jeans down.

Steve aches to set his teeth to those soft, thick thighs and plump ass, but—later. He’ll spread out Bucky in their bed and take his time tonight. Tease him for hours until he doesn’t know which way’s up. But right now, he wants it fast, rough.

He pats his thighs, and Bucky climbs back on, straddling Steve all on his own this time, pressing all his soft heat against Steve, who half-regrets his shirt and pants but at the same time basks in the dichotomy of having Bucky naked against his own clothed body. Bucky seems to feel the same, rubbing up against Steve more than strictly necessary, hands roving over his clothes as he squirms about.

Steve grabs generous handfuls of that pretty ass and spreads them wide, thumb slipping in between to—

His breath catches at what he finds.

“You son of a bitch.”

“Language, daddy,” Bucky says primly, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “My ma was an angel.”

“Winnie was but you sure ain’t, you goddamn minx.”

Bucky preens like Steve just complimented him—which he did, to be fair, but he still smacks Bucky’s ass, not that it does a damn thing to stifle that mad little grin of his.

Steve turns his attention to the plug nestled between Bucky’s cheeks. He knows which one it is by touch. The big steel one—Bucky’s favorite. He likes the fancier ones just fine, especially when Steve’s driving him mad with them, but this is the one he picks whenever he’s given the choice.

“The nerve of you,” Steve says softly, pinning Bucky with his eyes. “Playing coy with this thing stuffed in you.”

“Didn’t come here to get fucked,” Bucky says, grin turning into a crooked smirk. He’s still blushing. “Just like to be prepared. I know you don’t have any self-control, daddy.”

Steve bursts into helpless laughter. He’s still chuckling when he drags the plug out of Bucky without any warning, the last of his laughter drowned in Bucky’s startled shriek.

He thrusts two fingers into Bucky’s gaping hole and earns another of those high-pitched cries.

“You’re loose,” Steve comments lightly, ignoring Bucky’s vain attempts to writhe away from his fingers. “Play with yourself a lot, Buck?”

“N-no, Steve, stop it. _Daddy_.”

Steve smacks him again, on the face this time, the same cheek he hit earlier. Bucky groans, face snapping to the side, and his walls tighten around Steve’s fingers. Bucky’s body is always so honest.

“Should just send you home,” Steve muses, half to himself. He adds another finger. It’s a tighter fit; Bucky’s slick with leftover lube, but it’s not much. “Only good boys get my cock. And you haven’t been very good, have you, baby?”

Bucky gasps, red-faced and open-mouthed, and it’s a few seconds before he produces anything other than soft, strangled sounds.

“Don’t, I’m good, come on, daddy, please.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, could you? Messing with this little thing when I wasn’t even around to watch.” Steve tugs harshly at Bucky’s rim, his own cock twitching when Bucky whimpers. “Did you come?”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve wraps his other hand around Bucky’s cock, squeezing a little too tightly.

“Be honest, Buck.”

“I didn’t,” Bucky gasps. “Swear I didn’t. Just opened myself, s’for you, I swear, daddy.”

Steve rewards him with a long, slow stroke that has Bucky gasping soundlessly. He fucks him too, fingers thrusting roughly in and out, and Bucky tries to squeeze his thighs together, squirm up and away, all to no avail. Steve doesn’t let him, has no intention to. He holds Bucky to him with one arm and leans over to open his desk drawer. Bucky clings to his shoulders, and there’s a strange appeal to just casually holding him close like this without even looking at him.

“Why do you have lube here?” Bucky asks when Steve finds his prize.

“Like I haven’t jerked off in here. What, you think I just look at those pretty pictures you send and think of Jesus?”

Bucky laughs. It’s loud and helplessly amused, and it takes him a while to calm down. Steve watches him, eyeing the laugh lines around Bucky’s eyes and mouth. They’re a new development, and he loves every one of them.

“You’re a pervert,” Bucky says, still grinning. And then adds, like an afterthought, “Daddy.”

Steve gently swats his ass.

“Damn right I am.”

Bucky giggles. Steve kisses the sound off his lips, biting at Bucky’s lips and licking in deep when he gasps. Bucky sucks on his tongue, nothing coy about him anymore, and Steve’s cock throbs almost painfully.

He takes Bucky’s hand and leads it down, pressing fingers down over the bulge at Steve’s groin. Bucky moans into the kiss and curls his hand around it as best as he can, massaging Steve through the fabric.

“Take it out,” Steve tells him, not quite breaking the kiss.

Bucky fumbles with the fly, uncharacteristically clumsy. Steve doesn’t make it easy for him, kissing him deep and dirty and groping him freely, squeezing and pinching the sensitive skin of his tits and ass. His hole twitches every time Steve rubs his thumb across the rim, but he doesn’t slide it inside. He likes Bucky like this, shaking and desperate, all for Steve.

He manages, finally, to get Steve’s cock out. He curls his fingers around it and strokes, and then it’s Steve's turn to think past a barrage of sensation. He ducks his head and sinks his teeth into Bucky’s shoulder, letting the easy give of soft, warm flesh ground him. Bucky cries out, fist tightening pleasantly around Steve’s cock. Steve bites harder, not enough to break skin but threatening to. When he pulls back, there’s an angry red mark on Bucky’s skin and he looks sweetly dazed again.

Steve silently hands him the lube. Bucky grabs it and doesn’t crush it in his grip, which is impressive after all the furniture they’ve ruined by not minding their strength. They’re resigned to it now, Steve secretly likes it even, but it’s one thing to make a mess at home, another to do it at work. Natasha _will_ make them pay.

“Come on,” Steve prompts when Bucky just sits there with Steve’s dick in one hand and a tube of lube in the other. “Get me ready. You want my cock, don’t you?”

Bucky blinks at him, then nods, a little clarity returning to his eyes. His metal fingers don’t tremble as they handle the lube, but his right hand isn’t nearly as steady. He manages to get his fingers wet, dribbling some on Steve’s pants in the process, and curses much less violently than he usually would before finally wrapping his slick palm around Steve’s cock.

Steve just watches the whole thing, amused and endeared. Bucky catches the look on his face and averts his eyes, slicking Steve up with a furious blush. Steve shudders at the tight, wet grip on his cock but manages not to fuck up into Bucky’s fist. He pokes his cheek instead, trailing a finger through the color there. It’s both his blush and marks from Steve’s hand. He likes seeing it there. He’s possessive about his guy, and it’s no secret, least of all to Bucky, but he still gets a little shy when Steve starts admiring the bruising he’s caused.

“You’re pretty,” Steve says impulsively, tugging Bucky’s chin up and meeting his eyes.

Bucky bites his lips. He’s silent only for a moment.

“Thank you, daddy.”

Steve smiles, wide and crooked, heat rushing down his gut.

“Atta boy.” He strokes Bucky’s hair, loving the way Bucky tilts his head into it like a cat. “Good boys get rewards. What do you want, baby?”

Bucky shoots him a look that says he knows very well that Steve knows what he wants and was going to give it to him anyway, but he doesn’t say any of it out loud. That’s part of the game too, and Bucky’s always learned fast. Steve still flicks his ear, pinching the lobe to just hear Bucky hiss.

“Answer me, Buck.”

“Please fuck me,” he repeats obediently.

“Well if you insist. Hold on tight.”

Steve stands up. It’s a hell of a rush to see Bucky’s eyes widen as he chokes on a shocked cry. All four of his limbs wrap tight around Steve, and Steve’s got his arms around Bucky too, holding him securely against his body.

“Daddy!” Bucky gasps. “What—put me down!”

“Now, why would I do that? ‘Sides, you want my cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, I—but— _what_?”

“Cute.”

Bucky glowers. It is cute. Alright, it might be terrifying to anyone who’s not Steve in any other situation, but as it is, he’s clinging to Steve like a koala and as bare as the day he was born, so fear is the last emotion he’d evoke.

Burning arousal is a better bet, but Steve doesn’t want to test that theory. Bucky’s _his_.

Steve sets him down by the reinforced floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of his office. Bucky’s no fool and very familiar with Steve’s brand of depravity. He takes one look at the cityscape stretching out as far as the eye can see and flushes with understanding.

“Steve,” he says, disbelief making his voice a little higher. “You’re kidding.”

Steve very gently herds Bucky back against the window and loosens his belt, pushing his slacks and underwear to his ankles and stepping out of them because there’s something weirdly uncomfortable about being dressed with just his dick out. Then again, Bucky, entirely naked, doesn’t look all that settled in his skin either. Steve tries to help, running his hands down Bucky’s sides and turning him around to push him face-first into the glass. He’s not all that careful this time. Bucky can take some rough handling, will even beg for it if Steve touches him just right.

Now though, he seems more preoccupied staring at his own reflection in the window. Steve doesn’t blame him. The view is gorgeous—Bucky flushed and hard and shaking, everything about him begging to get fucked.

Steve grabs his ass and spreads him open, exposing his loose, twitching hole. That seems to yank Bucky out of whatever stupor he was in.

“Someone—someone might see.”

When Steve’s only answer is to guide his cock to Bucky’s hole, he protests bodily, trying to escape Steve’s hands and cock. Steve slams him back against the window, one hand tight on Bucky’s nape, the other digging into his hip.

He leans in until his mouth brushes Bucky’s ear and says, “You want a fight, Buck? I’ll give you one.”

He meets Bucky’s eyes in the reflection. His eyes are darker than the night sky.

“No, daddy,” Bucky says, voice small. “But—here?”

“We’re on the sixty-third floor. No one’s going to see.”

Bucky makes a quiet noise that’s not quiet agreement. Steve gets it. Nothing’s impossible in their line of work, and if S.H.I.E.L.D agents manage to be eerily resourceful, their allies and enemies can too.

“Alright, so someone might. What about it?”

“Daddy,” Bucky sighs. His body holds no tension anymore, muscles lax under Steve’s bruising grip. “Nat’s gonna kill you.”

“She’ll just blackmail us for a while before she finds something better.”

Bucky chuckles. Steve shifts his grip, holding Bucky across his stomach and pressing his hips forward until his cock slots between Bucky’s cheeks, rubbing against his hole. Bucky shivers and tilts his body back, rubbing up against Steve. He’s still staring at his reflection though, eyes wide and dark.

“You like it?” Steve asks and doesn’t give Bucky a chance to reply before finally pushing into him.

He’s _tight_. The plug’s not enough to stretch him out for Steve’s cock and even with the lube, the friction’s rough. Steve doesn’t stop, pushing in slow and sweet, mouthing at Bucky’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat and the tang of metal. Bucky’s keening, quiet and muffled with his fist, at least until Steve manages to raise a shaky arm to pry Bucky’s hand away from his face. He pins it to the glass, interlinks their fingers, and stares at the gold of his wedding ring as he bottoms out with a grunt.

Bucky’s panting now, sweet little moans slipping out in between.

“I like it,” Steve tells him, and he sounds wrecked too, sheer want turning his voice tight and hoarse.

Bucky just makes a rough, uncomprehending noise. Steve presses closer to him, trying to crawl deeper, but there’s nothing left for him to take. Every inch of him is buried inside Bucky, held tight by hot, clenching muscles. The attempt tears a choked groan out of Bucky anyway. His cock’s dripping, but Steve doesn’t touch it, and Bucky knows better than to try.

“This,” Steve clarified, kissing Bucky neck and nudging his hair to the side with his nose. “Knowing someone could see us, see you split on my cock. I like it.”

“Daddy,” Bucky whimpers.

“Don’t want ‘em to actually see,” Steve says, while Bucky makes a noise and tightens his hole around Steve like that will get him to stop monologuing and move. He’s predictable, his guy, but Steve just nips his ear in warning and continues. “You’re too damn hot, baby. I don’t want to share.”

“So don’t,” Bucky grits out, low and strained. “I’m yours, you know I am, just fuck me, come on, I’m—”

“Hm? You’re what?”

“I _need_ it.”

“I know, I know, you’re a slut—”

Bucky makes a high-pitched noise that might be a protest if not for the way he tries to fuck himself on Steve’s cock. Steve pins him again, whole body flush to Bucky’s, and Bucky shudders, not unaffected by being trapped between the cool glass and Steve’s heat.

“Don’t interrupt me, baby.”

“S-sorry.”

“Where was I now? Ah yeah. I know you’re a slut. But I want to hear you say it sometimes. That so bad?”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Bucky whines, and Steve spares a moment to wonder whether Bucky expected this when he left their home with a damn plug up his hole.

“Baby.”

Bucky growls. That’s cute too.

“Fine, yes, I am. Now, fuck me, come on, you promised.”

Steve fists a hand in Bucky’s hair and yanks it back. He stares at the sharp arch of his throat in the mirror, its pale skin livid with bite marks.

“You’re _what_?”

Bucky just whines.

Steve pulls out, just a little, enough to give Bucky a taste of what he can have.

“Bucky.”

He can see the moment Bucky gives up, gives in. He swallows, eyes closing, and takes a deep breath that Steve can feel in the body pressed up to his.

“I’m a slut,” Bucky says, a faint tremor in his words. “I’m—yours. Your slut.”

Steve lets go of his hair and guides Bucky’s face to the side so they can meet in a gentle kiss.

“That’s right,” he says, pleased, Bucky’s words creeping through his veins like molten magma. “That’s my boy.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s jaw, hard and sloppy, and turns forward, head slumping as he arches his back and arranges himself into a pose that’s all invitation. Steve takes a moment to just look—the arched back gleaming with sweat and the firm, round cheeks spread on his dick—but he doesn’t make Bucky wait anymore. He adjusts their joined hands for better leverage and pulls out, dragging his cock along Bucky’s warm, pulsing insides until his cockhead pops free of the swollen rim.

Bucky whines, and Steve shushes him. He doesn’t leave him empty long. This time, he buries himself balls-deep in Bucky with a single, harsh thrust.

They cry out, Bucky’s knees nearly buckling. Steve doesn’t stop. _Can’t_ , all the control he’s been clinging to until now shattering as he drives his cock into Bucky’s clenching ass, again and again and again, the wet sounds of flesh slamming into flesh filling the room. Bucky’s even louder, gasping, moaning, trying now and then to form words that only remain whimpering sounds.

Steve’s addicted to him, to the heat of his body and the tremor in his voice, could spend his entire life doing nothing but fuck him.

He says as much, or he thinks he does. He’s running his mouth, praise and filth spilling without any conscious control. Bucky’s all that matters, and he reacts to every touch, every word, beautiful and wild, hips working as he fucks himself on Steve’s cock.

Steve slams in deep, body crashing into Bucky’s, pinning him to the glass like a butterfly with its wings still fluttering. He ruts like that, minute thrusts that keep Bucky filled up, split open, and then it’s a short, furious road to the end. He spills deep inside Bucky, groaning as his own release drips down his cock, but he’s drowned out by Bucky’s cries, high, keening things that gets Steve grinding his hips into Bucky even though he can’t get any deeper.

He wants it though, wants to be in so deep that he’s in Bucky’s veins, his blood, running like wildfire through every cell in him.

“Daddy,” Bucky gasps, a soft, broken plea that skewers Steve in the gut.

“Ssh,” he chokes out, rubbing his face into Bucky’s throat, pressing frantic kisses along every inch of skin he can reach. “S’okay, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, you’ve done so well. Just—Christ, just lemme—”

Steve’s still hard. Once is never enough for him, not with Bucky’s heated body writhing in his grasp. If he were a little kinder, he’d pull out and back off, would tuck his dick into his pants and take Bucky’s hard, aching cock in his hand, would grant him relief instead of keeping him like this, impaled on Steve’s cock and dripping his come.

But he’s not kind. He’s greedy.

He does pull out, soothing Bucky with gentle touches when he whimpers. And Bucky’s so pliant like this, so trusting, letting Steve turn him around and kiss his sweet mouth and coax him to his knees. He doesn’t even make a questioning noise until he’s on his back on the floor, legs drawn up with Steve kneeling in between them.

“D-daddy?”

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” Steve croons, kissing up Bucky’s thigh, rubbing his face into the soft, lush skin there. It trembles under his lips, all of Bucky shaking, and when Steve pulls back, he finds himself speechless at the expression on Bucky’s face.

His cock’s quicker to react, precome beading at the tip, whatever softness that remained vanishing. Bucky’s eyes flick down to it and don’t waver even as his breathing picks up again.

“You can take one more,” Steve says, folding Bucky in half and rutting lazily against the crook of one thigh. “Can’t you?”

It’s not really a question. Bucky shakes his head anyway, biting his lips like the simpering little thing he likes to pretend to be. He’s no prey, but he acts the part in Steve’s grasp, though Steve doesn’t know how much of it he can call an act when Bucky does melt and tremble in Steve’s hands. It’s the faith that gets to him. The trust inherent in Bucky’s surrender.

“You can,” Steve says, adoring even as he pins Bucky down and pushes into his warm, wet hole. “Aw, honey, feel that? You need it.”

Bucky shakes his head again, but it’s weaker this time. His eyes are glazed, his skin a blotchy red from cheeks to chest. His cock looks like it hurts, flushed violently, the head almost purple, and so, so wet. Steve swipes his thumb through the slit and brings it to his mouth for a taste.

Bucky tightens around him, shouting brokenly.

“Tastes good,” Steve tells him, grinning. “Real sweet. You’re sweet all over, aren’t you, baby?”

“Daddy, _please_.’

Bucky doesn’t say what he’s begging for, and Steve doesn’t ask, driving into him instead. He’s rougher than before. This position gives him more leverage, and Bucky’s shaking, sweat-soaked body births the kind of controlled violence that used to terrify Steve in another lifetime.

Bucky jolts under him with every thrust, but his cries get quieter until it’s just faint whimpering, broken every now and then by deep, sobbing breaths. Steve fucks him harder, mesmerized by the tears wetting Bucky’s face and the way he can’t seem to get enough air, and he doesn’t even feel it build until he’s already hurling past the edge, the whole of him burning.

He finishes inside Bucky again, leaving him soaked and dripping when Steve’s softening dick slips out. He collapses beside Bucky. The cold floor is a shock to the parts of him that’s bare, so he squirms closer to Bucky, caging his limp body in his arms.

Bucky whines softly and curls up against Steve, seeking safety his warmth even while he’s used and left aching at his hands.

“I love you,” Steve tells him, carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Its brushed perfection has been ruined now, leaving lumps of sweaty strands that Steve adores just the same. “My best guy.”

“Daddy,” Bucky calls, quiet and meek. He sounds drunk. “Please, daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, ssh. I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He slides his free hand between their bodies and wraps it around Bucky’s cock. “Ignoring this little thing. Does it hurt?”

Bucky just whimpers another plea.

Steve doesn’t push him further, just jerks him off, slow and firm at first, then faster and faster until Bucky finds the strength to fuck into it, both arms clutching painfully at Steve. He cries when he comes, big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and wetting Steve’s neck. Steve croons at him, rocking him softly as he works over Bucky’s softening cock, milking every last drop out of it.

“There you go, it’s alright, you did well, baby, ssh.”

Bucky shudders and sobs, and Steve holds him through it, thrumming with satisfaction. He likes this as much as he likes the sex. Bucky’s sweet and shattered in the aftermath, and Steve loves nothing more than putting him together.

After a while, the tears and the shaking stops. Bucky peers at Steve with big, wet eyes and clumsily returns his kiss. He lets himself be tugged to his feet, and the sound he makes when Steve sweeps him into a bridal carry is distinctly pleased.

The chaise lounge on the other side of the room is one Steve picked out himself, an uncharacteristic indulgence that Natasha raised an eyebrow at. Steve told her that if he’s going to spend upwards of eight hours in a steel trap, he’s going to make it as comfortable as he can.

He hasn’t used it much, but he’s grateful for it now. He pours Bucky on it and joins him, happily letting Bucky crawl on top of him and curl up on Steve’s chest. They must be a hell of a sight, Bucky naked and Steve half-dressed, but no one’s going to see it.

It’s a sign of how long they’ve been attached at the hip that Bucky chooses that exact moment to ask, “People. Might come. What if…”

“Door’s locked. No access. Did it the moment you came in.”

Later, once they’re mostly clean and mostly presentable and mostly in possession of all their mental faculties, Bucky will let Steve know just what he thinks about his nefarious scheme to seduce Bucky in his office. And Steve will smile through every minute of his berating and ask Bucky if he wants to do it again, and Bucky will insult his mother and say yes.

But in this fucked-out state, Bucky doesn’t do more than acknowledge it with a hum and settle more comfortably on Steve, damn near purring when Steve’s fingers sink into his hair.

“Love you,” Steve says, a little choked because Bucky’s heavy, and it’s hard to breathe with most of his weight on Steve’s chest.

“Mm, ‘uv you.”

It sounds more like a grumpy cat’s growling than anything else. Steve sighs, content, and watches Bucky drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think 💗


End file.
